Walking The Tightrope

Have you ever played one of those 2p coin pusher arcade games? All it takes is one little coin being pushed through a slot to cause everything else to fall apart. That sums up how I feel. Now more than ever it seems as though every day I’m walking a tightrope, and I’m one little nudge away from falling. The constantly changing mood is in many ways worse than a persistent period of feeling down, as the ability to predict what my state of mind will be from one day to the next becomes impossible.

It’s amazing how tiny things can cause the already unstable equilibrium to become seriously unbalanced: a throwaway remark from a friend, an image on facebook, a memory or thought coming to mind. It’s not these things themselves that cause the spiral downwards, as often they are meaningless, insubstantial or wrongly interpreted, but rather they act as the final little push needed to facilitate the nose dive into turmoil. When a particularly strong sea wave causes a rock face to crumble and fall into the sea, it’s not that single wave that did the damage, but rather it was the years of constant battering that caused the rock face to weaken. The last 7 days have featured the highs of laughing with friends at Christmas parties or in the office, to the lows of shutting myself in the toilets and failing to hold back the tears.

A significant cause of anxiety is a perception or concern with how others view you, and generally these preconceptions are either false, or hugely exaggerated. However, there is one person I know that truly despises me, and that is myself. I find that the loathing I have for myself is only matched by the desire I have to make others happy. It may be a cliche, but how can you expect anyone else to love you when you don’t even like yourself? More than the contempt I have for myself is the constant fear I have of it alienating friends, and all I want to do is constantly apologise for how I am to be around at times. It’s too important that I don’t lose these people…the consequences could be devastating.

As previously mentioned in other blogs this time of year is a particularly difficult one, and whilst I got through my birthday without the immediate difficulties I had anticipated (due in part to the kindness of certain friends in making the day feel special), I certainly feel the affects as a delayed reaction. As 2016 comes to a close it should present everyone with a sense of optimism for what 2017 will bring. For me if merely fills me with dread of another year of my life ticking by, and being nowhere nearer to feeling any semblance of happiness or peace. Is it really worth another year of pain? On 1st January I will have been writing this blog for 1 year, comprising almost 50 posts. The fact that from blog 1 to blog 50 I am still writing the same sorts of things is a testament to how frustrating this illness is, and epitomises how difficult it is to remain hopeful. Whilst it’s true that “to be alive is to have hope”, the longer time goes on the less alive you feel and therefore it’s not just the hope that you crave, but the feeling of being alive.